


Krogan Elegance

by Darkstarling



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Drabble, Gen, The Geth Really Are Odd Aren't They, Wrex is Badass, fighting styles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkstarling/pseuds/Darkstarling
Summary: It takes seeing Wrex fight the Geth for Shepard to get some perspective on the meaning of elegance.Just a drabble.
Kudos: 8





	Krogan Elegance

Wrex didn’t fight like a Geth. It wouldn’t have been notable to Shepard, except that she hadn’t realized what was wrong with the Geth in the first place.

The Geth were always elegant. Organic even, ironically enough. Smooth curves and artful design. Never a wheel where a leg would do. Never armor when you could have shields. How else would you get robots that bleed? They fought like a mix between Asari Commandos and a pack of wolves, circling and harrying and wearing away from a distance. 

Wrex though. Wrex was efficient. Methodical. Relentless. A scarred armored hulk, face hidden behind an impassive mask. A living tank, sending out a hail of hot tungsten alternating with the shattering crack of a high explosive shotgun. No wasted motions, a crushing blow transitioning seamlessly to a shooting stance. Repeat, turn, fire on the flankers. Charging the moment they were forced to duck. He wasn’t elegant, and he certainly wasn’t graceful. But he moved with the unstoppable finality of an avalanche. More mechanical than the machines themselves. 

Shepard was a sniper. She always appreciated precision. Careful planning and precisely applied force in exactly the right place. She had been fundamentally offended when she learned most art ‘heists’ were simply smashing a truck through the front door and the thieves making off with whatever they could carry. One shot, one kill. Resorting to the Maxim of Overkill (“No such thing! Only open fire and cooldown time!”) was the domain of trigger happy morons, and she’d made a career of proving it.

But, as the hypersonic cracks of her and Vakarian’s rifles brought down the heavy weapons and counter snipers so the Krogan juggernaut could keep on rolling, she had to admit. There was an elegance to be found in sheer brutality.


End file.
